The lawn in my parents’ backyard tries to spring back to life, reaching for any sunlight it can get. I stare at the tree house Dad built for Ellie and me. After all these years, it looks like no one has touched it.
I wonder if I can fit in there.
It was a place I could escape to on bad days, a comic book in my hand, ready to sink into a realm filled with heroes. Dad had always been my hero. It was like nothing could stop him, not even a cold. But that all changed after New Year’s when Dad had a cough that wouldn’t go away.
He experienced no pain, so he ignored it. Then a fever followed, leaving him exhausted. Mom sensed something was wrong. Dad isn’t stubborn per se, but he isn’t one to freak out. She pulled him by the ear to urgent care. Thedoctor suggested testing after they performed a normal exam.
Dad didn’t think it was necessary, but Mom gave him one look in the eye, and he gave in.
He tested negative for the flu, pneumonia, and strep. Then they said the word ‘biopsy’ when they found lumps under his arm and on his neck. The family waited a long, agonizing seven days before we received the results.
I can still hear the doctor breaking the news.“You have stage three non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma.”
After hearing that, I shut down, and whatever she said next was a blur.
Now, a month later, we’re sitting in front of the fire and talking about how I’ll slowly transition into taking on more responsibilities at the shop while Dad goes through therapy.
“We could review the vendor list, it’ll be fine,” Dad says. He’s wearing his favorite forest-green hoodie and a baseball cap. A blanket covers his lower half while his sneakers peek out from under it.
Breathing out a sigh, I say, “I just want to make you proud. You’re going to need to focus on therapy and your mental health.”
“I’m going to work until I’m too tired to walk.”
“Yeah.” I chuckle. “Try telling Mom that. She’s going to baby you so much. I guarantee you if I even try to slip you some work, she’s going to lecture me.”
“Nah, your mom would never lecture you.” He looks at me and huffs out a laugh, always being sarcastic. “I know you’re more intimidated by the numbers. It’ll be fine. I found my ledger. That’s what works for me, but you need to find what works for you. Don’t stick to how I do things. That wouldn’t be fair.”
As a kid, I would go through the brown leather bookhe’d keep all the numbers in for The Surf Shack. This worn book resembled an item from an Indiana Jones film, concealing secrets like hidden treasure.
Dad continues. “If you’d like to try it out, I have nothing against it. Just make sure it’s done the way you’d like to do it. Don’t worry about me. You need to accommodate yourself.”
Since I was small, I’ve viewed things differently from others. Classmates could communicate and understand topics quickly, but not for me. Nope. I’d sit with my face slumped in my hands, confused at what I was reading or solving. Numbers have always overwhelmed me. Beyond that, staying focused on a task was tough. These challenges linger within me even now.
High school was the biggest obstacle. Everyone around me understood things much faster than I could comprehend. Sometimes, I felt embarrassed to ask. What teenager wants to look like a dumb kid?
All those fears held me back from asking questions. So, I’d keep my mouth shut and hope for the best. When I turned sixteen, everything clicked into place. My teachers met with my parents and suggested I get tested for ADHD. The following week, I found answers to all my questions.
Mom once told me,“Your brain processes things differently. But you are still brilliant and capable of achieving everything you desire. So don’t give up.”
Unfortunately, that speech didn’t work.
I fill my lungs with the crisp air. My glasses slide down my nose, and I push them back up, fidgeting. “Dad, you’re acting like I’m taking over the shop. You’ll finish therapy, heal, and come back to work.”
He’s remained optimistic throughout this journey,always putting his right foot forward. I’m not sure where he gets the optimism from, but I wish it could rub off on me.
“Fine. If you and the ledger get along, then go for it.” His tone is light. “I understand there’s more to do. This whole cancer situation wasn’t in the cards.”
I’ve always handled the smaller things: inventory count, scheduling shifts, delegating tasks, and marketing. Then there are times Dad wants me to sit in meetings with him and the vendors. Confidence doesn’t come often with me.
Oh, and Ihatemath.I hate it with a fiery passion. If I’m put on the spot, my mind goes into overdrive as I’m being stared at. Attempting to keep up with everyone is frustrating and exhausting, but that changed when Riley and I became close.
My sister's best friend found me in my room struggling with math homework one night when she slept over. Riley loves math and is incredible with numbers. Her offer to tutor me turned into a full-blown friendship. Her methods helped me calm down and concentrate. Sticky notes, notebooks, highlighters.
I lowered my guard, becoming comfortable with her, and that comfort turned into trust. Along with that, my self-esteem grew throughout the years.
“Support will always be available. Promise me you will ask for help when you need it, okay? Even if it’s your mom.”
I nod.
